


panthera uncia

by momokos



Category: Original Work
Genre: Belly Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 18:44:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20878937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momokos/pseuds/momokos
Summary: ounce fuckin' eats a guy





	panthera uncia

**Author's Note:**

> funny cat man have a munch

From up on top of his perch, Ounce looked down upon the cold, snowy world that he knew as his home. Gloved hands gripped the thick bark of the barren tree he resided in. He lived a somewhat simple life and that was how he liked it. 

Sometimes he may wander out a bit (which unfortunately usually resulted into coming across pests he'd rather not see) but for the most part, he liked to sit above the world in the branches and simply watch-

Crunch

His ear twitched as he heard the sound in the distance. Heavy steps, careless of where they were going or of who could hear them. crunch crunch crunch. and thus, a lamb wandered into the hunters den. 

The white haired young man didn't appreciate people coming and going through his turf as they pleased, as this was his. 

He grabbed his gun from his back, leaning against a branch and waited. His face was blank but his mind was eager. It was becoming less and less common for people to come across the little patch of woods he had claimed for himself- possibly due to the fact that word had spread that most of the people that ventured there ended up with a bullet in their heads. 

Out from behind a rather large tree in the distance, came a man on his lonesome. Letting out a breath, Ounce squeezed the trigger. The man went down almost pathetically easily, the bullet piercing his chest and he fall in a heap to the ground below. 

Putting his rifle back in its place on his back, Ounce leapt down from the tree, his ragged cloak billowing out around himself as the wind ruffled it. Gracefully, he walked towards the dying man, his wheezing and gurgling breath clearly audible and only getting louder as he approached. 

When he arrived, he crouched down next to him, watching as he coughed- red drops of blood spraying down his chin ever so slightly, dripping down to join the blood that stained the white scarlet around him. 

Ounce reached his hand out and gripped the mans hair- it was short but there was enough to hold onto- and pulled him up to eye level with him. His eyes bleakness proved a match with the blankness evident in the swarm's own. 

He let out something halfway in between a shout and a gurgle as he tried to jerk away but Ounce leaned in towards him, taking a whiff of the man's scent; he smelled like fear and death. The noises he was making were making the man's throat move in an almost tantalising way- so the next thing Ounce did was open his mouth, his two sharp canines tracing along his windpipe, his breath tickling against the skin before he snapped shut his maw and jerked his head away, taking a chunk of trachea along with him. 

A spray of blood spurted across his pale white face. 

He let his hand go and the man flopped down, the last of his life ripped out of him. 

He stared down at the sight while chewing on the chunk of flesh, swallowing it down and his deft tongue flicks out between scarlet coated lips. 

He let out a deep breath- thankful the man came when he did. It wasn't until he got that mouthful of flesh and blood in him did he realise the how present the hunger that frayed his edges truly was.

He could get back to his meal soon, he told himself, as he got to the task of looking through the man’s belongings. He opened his bag, rustled through his pockets and unzipped his jackets only to come up mostly empty. A few bits and bobs that he dumped into the pouch on his belt, but as far as weapons go, he truly had nothing on him beyond a short little knife. Even if Ounce hadn’t caught him off guard, he doubted he would have been able to put up a good fight. What an idiot. 

Shucking the corpse’s bloody jacket off, he got a good look at him. He was of an average height but seemed somewhat muscled. Good. He gripped the man's own knife in his left hand and gripped the arm with his right and quickly, he sawed the limb off, hacking through muscle and bone. 

Eventually, the limb came apart with the last few chops. He dropped the knife to the snow and held the detached limb with his own two thin, spindly hands. 

He lifted it up to his face, taking a deep sniff before digging in, his slightly yellowed teeth ripping and tearing flesh and muscle apart before gulping it down, repeating the action over and over as he worked his way through from the thick biceps all the way down to the more delicate wrists. 

His lower face was now absolutely stained red where let the blood drip down, manners obviously not relevant in his mind. Bones with strips of muscles were discarded, dropped below him. 

He licked his lips once again, holding the hand up to his mouth. He popped the ring and pointer finger into his mouth and crunch. He chewed the delicate digits, savouring the crunch of the thin bones underneath his blunt molars. 

He softly closed his eyes as he swallowed them down then went for the last two, doing the exact same with those digits too. He opened his dark eyes and looked at the palm, with just a thumb attached. He licked up the blood that was caked on the palm and discarded it with the rest, he had already learned enough to be picky- he liked the thin bones in the fingers but didn’t enjoy the rest. 

His tongue rolled over his teeth as he picked up the knife again. 

Rolling the man’s shirt up, he plunged the blade into the corpse’s mid torso, opening up his insides to the rest of the world, he reached his hand in and tore open the hand even wider. 

He stopped crouching and leaned over the man, his knees and shins digging into the snow and growing wet from the surface. Going low, he looked upon the man’s organs, his free hand pulling out the first thing he saw, using the knife to hack it away. Pulling it out, he didn’t know it’s name but he knew it was delicious from past experience, the pink mass didn’t fit in his mouth, he had to go back to it, taking several messy bites until it was done and down his gullet. 

Discarding the knife once again- he gripped the opening in the mans chest with both hands as he leaned down low, biting and ripping flesh away until there was a considerably large chunk gone, opening up the hole even further. Dark eyes stared down at the insides, various pink shapes and masses looking back to him. He breathed and continued taking chunk after chunk into his mouth- of both flesh and organs, ignoring the twinge in his stomach. 

Eventually his tooth clanked against something.. Hard. 

Spitting out into his hand, he saw the very bullet that took the man down. He quietly hummed, perhaps the only show of amusement you’d be able to get out of the young man, before flinging that into his pile of mess. He leaned down to get back to work but felt a sharp pang of pain from his middle. Irritated, he looked down upon himself, pulling up his baggy jacket. 

His usually concave stomach was ever so slightly rounded out underneath his vest- it would look normal on any other person but Ounce was always so used to seeing it sunken in, his hip bones jutting out harshly, that the sight blew him away every time he ate, his thin middle had nothing to mask to contents within. He huffed. 

Pulling out another organ he had no clue the name of, he slowly chewed on it with one hand, the other dropped its grip on his jacket but wormed its way underneath his clothes- resting his palm against his pale, stretched skin, feeling the contents within churn every time he swallowed. 

Grabbing the knife again for the final time that day, he cut away the leg on the trousers of the man, revealing a meaty thigh underneath. While he was at it, he cut away a slice of skin with the blade, raising it to his mouth and eating it directly off the edge, his lips brushing delicately against the blade- just gently enough that he didn’t cut himself then licked away the blood present of the knife. 

He pocketed it, he already had a few knifes stashed away but he wouldn’t turn his nose up at it- he still thought his meal an idiot for using it as his only means of possible defence though. 

He gave his stomach a quick gentle rub, hoping that was enough to get it to refrain from it’s complaining for now, before pulling his hand out from his clothing so he could lift up the leg. 

Absolutely as ravenous as when he began, he tore into it- having to take breaks so he could take deep breaths in between bites. As he was close to finishing this section, he had to pause, a low moan in his throat as his gut ached again. Dropping the leg, he huffed. 

Usually he didn’t eat this much in one go, so he took this as his cue to stop. With a quiet groan, he rose up, his centre of gravity off due to, well, carrying ⅓ of a fully grown man in him. 

Grabbing the corpse, he dragged him over to a snow bank, burying him deep within the white depths and kicking some more over him, just to be sure he’d stay fresh-ish. He’d come back to chew on him some more at some point but right now? He didn’t physically think he could continue on. 

Trudging away back to his tree, he rested his hands on his bloated gut. The only sign of emotion on his face was the slight furrowing of his eyebrows, due to his irritation at his bodies response. Getting up was somewhat of a hassle so he just sat on the ground, his back leaning against the trunk. 

He unzipped his jacket, it was baggy enough but he wanted to survey the damage without it getting in the way right now. His black vest was already skin tight as it was but now it practically clung to the curve of his middle- having ridden up a bit showing a sliver of pale skin. His fingers slid under the fabric and pulled it up to his chest. 

He was correct when he thought that this was the most he’d ever eaten because he’d never seen his stomach this swollen before- the roundness of it contrasting so deeply with just how thin the rest of him was. 

The bottom of it was being pinched in by his high waisted trousers and belt- which was probably the cause of the pain he was currently feeling- so his deft hands undid the buckle and popped open the button- feeling the immense relieve almost immediately as he now had room the breathe. 

Still, some pain persisted, so he started pawing at his stuffed middle, shivering slightly at the feeling of his rough gloves on the currently sensitive skin. He gripped it with both hands, feeling the heft of it- he huffed - touching it up he knew that there really was no way he would have fit any more into it, unable to even pinch any skin with how taut it was. 

The action, forced a burp out of him, which he instantly muffled into his fist. Disgust crossed his face at the sensation, clearly not enjoying the feeling of doing so regardless of if it did in fact- make his stomach feel a tad less sore. 

He continued rubbing at it, feeling his eyelids grow somewhat heavy- he draped his cloak around himself and wrapped one arm around himself. The feeling of a full stomach was more than enough to lure him into resting for now, knowing that when he awoke- his meal will have been fully digested and he’d be back to normal.


End file.
